


It's All Right, It's Okay

by Tortellini



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandonment, Abuse, Based on a song, Bigotry & Prejudice, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Brother-Sister Relationships, Cancer, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Inspired by Music, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Moving, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, POV Second Person, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Racism, Redemption, Sad, Sad Ending, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Slurs, Small Towns, Step-parents, Step-siblings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 19:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tortellini/pseuds/Tortellini
Summary: (SPOILERS for season 3/the finale)There are very few things Billy Hargrove has good memories of in his life. His mother is a definite. California is another one, no question about it. But after those two...things get harder to differentiate. This is the story of a little boy who grows up too fast, angry-eyed, and a young man who ends up wanting to be that little boy again.Oneshot





	It's All Right, It's Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["False Confidence"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/498322) by Noah Kahan. 



And I wonder why I tear myself down

to be built back up again?

Oh, I hope somehow, I'll wake up young again

All that's left of myself

Holes in my false confidence

And I lay myself down

And hope I wake up...

Hope I wake up young again

* * *

1.

You're still a kid in her eyes and to you she's the only one that matters. To tell you the truth, you don't really mind it. She still looks at you like you're grown up, but just for her, just in that way that mothers can--and you look at her like she's hung the moon.

Your favorite days are when she takes you down to the beach. You kick off too-small sandals

("You're growing like a weed, Billy, slow down," she says, and her hands comb through your hair)

and bury your toes in the sand. The sun beats down on the bare part of your neck, your shoulders; it makes her hair glow like gold. On the way to the water you'd pick up shells with delicate fingers, and she takes them, promising to hold them for you while you race into the water. 

She is your favorite person in the whole world. She sees that you are soft, that you like the feeling of the ocean breeze through your curls, the feeling of her hand in yours. And she is okay with your softness.

He isn't. 

Words that at your age you know are cruel and she tells you not to repeat 

(faggot, pussy)

come from his sneering mouth and-and he's supposed to be your dad. You don't know why he looks at you the way he does and it makes your mind go blank at his hate. He hits her. He hits your mom and even though you're a kid you have to do something. You step between them, fists balled up, and--

He hits you too. 

She comes to you to say goodnight. You are in bed already. Your room is dark, the curtains white and blue, and the bedspread familiar. She's done this before; it's your ritual. Her hands go in your hair again, and her words are soft and wavering, as if she's afraid he'll hear her. Maybe she is. Both her eyes are black. 

You close your eyes. You think of the beach.

* * *

2\. 

You're not a kid anymore. 

She gets sick. Really sick. Her long hair falls out and over the course of a few months, and her pretty dresses hang off her like she's one of those skeletons you glance at with furrowed brows in the halloween store. She stops coming home. And even though you call her every night and beg her to come back to you, she doesn't. 

He ignores you for a long time. That's not so bad either. His words are sharp and his eyes are even sharper; the dinners just the two of you are awkward and stiff. But when she dies, it gets bad again. You try to think he's grieving but he starts beating you. Even though she's not there. 

By the time he remarries a few years later, you are not the soft-spoken boy who'd spend his days swimming or laying out on the grass under the sun. Now, gone is all traces of the fact that you had ever once been him. You stalk the streets of your little town in California and you use words your mom had tried to shield you from. 

You grow your hair out, get your ear pierced, sun-kissed skin and rippling muscles. Girls oggle at you now. You know you look good. 

Susan Mayfield--Hargrove now--isn't your mom. And Maxine isn't your sister either. They're not family. Max, as she ever-so-kindly blurts out her name is, is small and hot-headed and you two immediately don't get along. She's four years younger than you, and your old man just expects you to look out for her. Which is stupid. She's twelve, not six. 

But when you're sixteen, almost seventeen, she--catches you doing something. Your eyes widen--she's supposed to be home with fucking Susan, doing her homework, not at your spot at the beach watching you pull your lips away from Danny Kale's mouth--

You don't know what happens but she must've told Susan. 

Susan tells him. 

And he beats you within an inch of your life. That's why Neil Hargrove picks up his family and moves across the country to the shithole of Hawkins, Indiana.

* * *

3.

Hawkins is worse than you could've imagined. The house is tense and too small and nothing reminds you of your mom here. You have one last thing of hers: a pendant of the Virgin Mary, small, delicate, on a chain. You wear it all the time. The first time Max sees it she gives you a look, but just that, nothing else. You've turned into something worse than before. 

You've never hit Max, but sometimes she looks at you like she's scared of you. You know it can't be any other way.

A year passes. Steve fucking Harrington is an idiot. And he spends way too much time around Max, which is really creepy, okay? Not that he cares about her, but--why does an eighteen-year-old want to hang out with a bunch of kids? 

That's not the only reason he's an idiot though. He's just--not smart. Wouldn't someone know to stay away from someone like you? No, apparently, and every time he rolls his eyes at you it sends a little thrill down your spine. You know you'll fuck it up sooner rather than later. 

Everything comes to a head after your old man beats you one night for not watching Max. Susan gives you her sad doe eyes from behind him and you wonder, stomach plummeting, if he's started on her or Max yet. You don't fight back. It's for both of their sakes. Even if you couldn't save your mom, you can still stop him from hitting the others, right? That's what you tell yourself. And not that you're just a coward. 

You don't take it out on him. You never do. You swallow hard, square your shoulders, and go to find your fucking step-sister. 

And of course she's with Harrington. And some little negro kid that you told her to stay away from too. 

The fight is a blur, but it's the first time you see something actually angry behind Harrington's eyes, and that gives you a thrill too. He gets in a few good hits, but in the end you're beating the shit out of him. You don't even see him in the end, to be honest. He's not the actual one you want to beat, but you can't fight your old man. There's a second you think you might kill him when--

Something sharp hits your neck. Max fucking drugs you. She has a nailed baseball bat in her hands and she's raised it over her shoulder, over you sprawled on the floor, lip bloody.

"From now on you'll leave me and my friends alone." Her voice doesn't shake. "Say you understand."

Your gaze is hazy and you can't focus on her. You don't know what she put in you but it's something strong. "Screw you."

She slams the bat between your legs. An inch closer and...

"I said, you understand! Say it. Say it!"

"...I understand." you mumble. 

"What?" her voice is sharp.

"I understand." You resist the urge to add 'sir' at the end of it. Because it's something your old man would say. 

* * *

4\. 

And after that, you leave Max alone. For the most part, at least. She's still a piece of shit, and she still makes eyes at that kid, but--she's smart enough not to do it around Neil, so that's something. You know he wouldn't hold back if he saw the two of them together. School gets out. Your grades aren't terrible, and pretty soon, you get a job as a lifeguard at the local community pool. 

Harrington skulks about. He still fucking hangs out with a bunch of middle schoolers, but as far as you know he doesn't do anything creepy with them. Not with Max, and truth be told she's the only one you care about. I mean, if you even care about her at all. Because you don't. Duh. 

He works in an ice cream shop with some girl and he wears a stupid little hat like a sailor. What an idiot. But he's easy to mess with, and while you love to tease him, there's no...physical violence anymore. Apologizing isn't your strong suit but at least there's that. 

Summer is normal. 

* * *

5\. 

The lights flash all around you, and you can't control yourself--you're gonna kill that little girl with the wide doe eyes just like Susan, on the ground broken and bleeding and--

She touches your face. Her fingers are impossibly gentle. 

"Seven… feet." the little girl whispers. "You told her the wave was seven feet. You ran to her, on the beach. There were seagulls. She wore a hat… with a blue ribbon. A long dress… with a blue and red flower. Yellow sandals, covered in sand. She was pretty," now the girl has tears in her eyes, and matching tears roll down your cheeks too, because she's Max's age and you don't want to hurt her and oh god it already made you kill Heather and--

"Really pretty," she continues. Her voice cracks. "And you...you were happy."

You close your eyes. Her hand is still against your cheek.

And then you stand up. Your legs shake. Max, behind you, is screaming for you, sobbing, but you don't turn. You put yourself between the girl, and the monster.

When it rips through you, you close your eyes again. You think of the beach. 


End file.
